THAT'S gonna hurt
by Lady Karasu
Summary: Moral of the story: Always check your lubricant first... [Story repost]


This is a repost of a fic that came down for a while, while I was being angry at for loosing me my reviews. I hope it is still found enjoyable…. Note, this version is [severely] edited for content, so it doesn't get booted again, to see the full version, please go to my livejournal (linked to my webpage) and read the entry from 7/17/04 - there will also, eventually, be a link up from the fanfiction section of my webpage. Frankly, the longer version is much better.

**Notes**: This was written in approximately two hours before the contest [it was written for] ended, while I was supposed to be working on something else. Aah, procrastination is the mother of fiction… Also, this is my first attempted lemon ever… beware, BEWARE…..

**Warnings**: I am being utterly evil and twisted today. What's the difference from every other day? Er… not much. I should mention once again, this story is Yaoi in nature. If you do not like, do not read.

Oh, I should note, this was written purely because I have an evil muse, and I read THIS, under the saucy cam award section: "weirdest thing used as lube just because it's in a tube" – and come to think of it, I believe it's gone beyond 'lack of use of lube', to the ANTI-lube… Again, Beware….

Key: Phone conversations, electronics (radio), etc.

_Thoughts or stressed conversation_

Other sounds

THAT's gonna hurt …

The lights were dim when Trowa returned home, only the necessary track lighting (1) at otherwise blind steps lending its power to the rapidly descending sun, and even _they_ were muted. If they had remained at the main winner residence, the lighting would be unnecessary; Quatre new every nuance of his estates, and he was naturally good at navigating in the dark.

Unfortunately, that was impossible at the moment. Paparazzi and the press had swarmed the house the second it was leaked that they were a couple, so they had decided to take some time off and away from society at large. Now, they were renting a rather comfortable house in the suburbs of some small town or another. The only others who presently knew where they were, were the other former pilots… and probably Relina by now, judging by how she tracked Heero. He still wasn't sure why Duo had cracked up when he saw this new house had track lighting, but he hadn't said anything about it since, so it didn't seem to matter anymore.

As Trowa worked his way further into the house, he could make out the telltale scent of patchouli in the air. He suddenly grinned like a chipmunk on crack. That scent could mean only one thing; Quatre was in a good mood…

Unaware of how truly deranged he looked, Trowa smiled a blissful smile that only one thing could ever bring out in him. The waiting was over. He was finally, _finally_ gonna get some.

It had been a long time, since he had had any release for certain tensions - a chance misunderstanding forcing him to sleep on the couch for several moons now (in reality, it had only been a few days since he broke that mask, but it FELT like ages…) But it seemed that tonight, things would finally be reconciled.

He had started forward before realizing he was wearing a shit-eating grin (though why anyone would be grinning after eating that, he didn't know). He stopped himself, attempting to force the unnatural giddiness down. He couldn't risk what this night had to offer by sporting such a revealing sign that he knew what was cumming (2) - or even worse, give his love a heart-attack, with something so out of place for the stoic pilot.

No, he had to play this one right, if he wanted a booty call tonight.

Making sure all signs of joy were stripped from his face, he backtracked out to his car, intent on flowers for his little angel. His _sexy _little angel...

-Twenty Minutes Later-

Quatre looked up from his repairs, having heard movement in the other hall. Last time it had been a false alarm, but this time it might just be Trowa coming home.

He smiled as he placed the newly repaired ceramic mask down gently on the nightstand. Looking once more at the tube, he confirmed that it should sit out over night before he tried to hang it again. It would take several hours for the superglue to set correctly.

Setting the toothpaste-sized tube down with the mask, he exited the room to find his love. It really was a silly thing, being angry at him for accidentally breaking the mask that was only so endearing because it reminded him of his… flexible… lover.

He grinned lustily, remembering exactly how the bauble got broken in the first place. He wasn't sure if moves like those should be physically possible… but he was NOT going to argue about the laws of physics after mind blowing sex like that…

At that thought, he happily went out to meet his other half. It was time they made up…

----

ring

ring

ring -click I am currently unavailable. Leave a message.

beep

Duo rolled his eyes as he started his message. "Heero, pick up! Come on man, I know you're there…. You aren't still mad at me about the other night, are you? Come on, it was a JOKE! Besides, she likes pink…"

He paused, listening intently… nothing.

"Oh, whatever. Anyway, This is serious – Quatre and Trowa won't be meeting up with you tonight like planned, they're kind of… um, how can I put this delicately…? Something came _up_, and now they're _stuck_ with different plans…"

At that moment, a flying pillow connected with his head. Assuming that was Trowa's version of 'shut up' he finished up his message quickly.

"All right, I'm just gonna run these two to the emergency room now…" He looked back and winced, muttering to himself before realizing he was still on the phone, " Jeeze, that's gotta be uncomfortable…"

Realizing he still held the receiver Duo hung up with a click and looked back at his awkward companions. He simply shook his head, trying very hard not to comment. They had, after all, trusted him enough to call in this… particular… predicament-regardless of the obvious embarrassment.

Trowa smiled slightly (though it looked more like a wince) at him in appreciation, then looked beneath him to the trembling blonde attempting to hide amongst the sheets. He wasn't sure if it was the chill or the situation that caused that reaction, though.

"Quatre, angel, that's not going to help- he already knows you're in there."

In reply a muffled 'don't care' came out of the cocoon that was Quatre. Trowa let loose a long suffering sigh (which surprised Duo to no end) and gently began to extricate his lover from his chosen hiding place. This proved to be very difficult, while attempting to hold up his weight on one arm, and work with the other.

Quatre burrowed deeper into the safety of his cloth barrier while Trowa continued in his attempt to get him out.

"Quatre… you know this is very uncomfortable, right?"

The writhing mass of sheets stilled for a moment, before a slightly acidic, "Which part?" popped out.

Had that come out of anyone but the blonde, the comment would have had the intended bite, but as it was, his bouts of anger were generally ignored by measure of how 'cute' he was… unless he happened to be in Wing Zero at the time.

"Well, I'm getting tired and you _do_ look rather soft - I could just sleep on you for a while…"

There was a resigned sigh from somewhere deep within the cloth prison, just before a tousled blond head reluctantly emerged. It is possible that the shade of red now displayed could be found nowhere else in nature- but that is another story.

He sighed, and allowed Trowa to position them both in a slightly more comfortable manner, so they BOTH had a patch of the bed, and lay spooned together. Just about then Duo's cell phone started ringing.

-----

"… Jeeze, that's gotta be uncomfortable…"

Click-- BEEP!

A slightly perturbed look found it's way to one Mr. Yuy's face as he finished listening to his messages. He snatched up his own mobile, and dialed Duo's number, waiting only two rings before it was picked up by a cackling madman.

"Hello, city morgue, you stab 'em , we slab 'em….

For some unknown reason, there was an unusual amount of snickering during his usual banter, along with the sound of several objects clanking, and/or thudding to the ground. He ignored that for the moment.

"Report." It was more of a command, than a suggestion.

"Oh, hiya Heero – finally getting back to me?"

There was a pause, before Duo continued, apparently not expecting an answer to his rhetoric.

Well, I imagine you'd like to talk to the guys. Ok, hold on, I'll put them on the phone…

He could hear the phone changing hands, and then light breathing.

"…"

There was another bit of shuffling, then Duo came back on.

Sorry man, he doesn't want to talk.

He was beginning to get annoyed. What was _happening_ over there, anyway?!?

"If Trowa doesn't want to talk, why don't you put Quatre on?"

Um… that _was_ Quatre

Heero raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was going on…

I knew better than to even try Trowa at this point. I really don't think he wants to move too much right now, anyway…

"Duo, what's going on?"

There was another pause.

…well, you remember when I made you watch that American pie marathon-- you know, the 4 flicks on the 'classic movies' station?

Unfortunately, he remembered very well what the American pilot had considered 'classic vintage television'.

"Yes…?"

Well, they kinda made a mistake while perusing a higher level of their relationship… and now they're a bit closer than they really wanted to be…

"Duo--" It came out as more of a growl; he really had no care for runarounds tonight.

Oh fine, be that way. Quatre left the superglue out after fixing that cracked porcelain mask in his bedroom earlier today. Whenever they were getting' it on later, they mixed that up with the lube, and now they're literally stuck together. Happy?!

"……………What?!"

We're talkin' permanent salami sub here, sans the bread- but lots of buns. Sigh Oh, just come over. I think I'm going to need some help getting these two to a hospital anyway…

Click

---

Quatre entered the foyer (it was a _very_ comfortable house) to find a note taped to the wall. It read, "I have a present for you… go back to the bedroom to unwrap it…"

The blond giggled happily, following the instructions and returning to the room. He loved presents. When he opened the door, he found to his great surprise (and delight) Trowa sitting on the edge of their (usually) shared bed – holding a large bouquet of red roses, with a ribbon and bow of the some hue slung over his shoulders. He smiled slightly as Quatre entered (having found the innocent approach usually worked best with his little empath), and was neatly glomped 2 seconds later. (Trowa was suddenly very, _very_ glad he had paid extra for thornless roses…)

At some point, in the flurry of activity that occurred in the next several minutes, (in which, Trowa decided Quatre just might be hornier than him…) the taller boy found himself shirtless and sprawled across the comforter. It was very likely that his pants would be going next. Deciding he'd have to remember how well that worked next time, he reached out to catch the blonde's nearly flailing arms.

They lay amongst the decapitated roses for a few moments, as Trowa waited for his overzealous lover to calm down – he'd have him panting for a whole different reason later…

A hand reached out lightly, to brush back blond bangs, then to pull their keeper down for a passionate kiss. When they parted, glazed aquamarine eyes gazed into emerald. "Why was I angry at you again…?"

Trowa smiled, and gently rolled the blond beneath him. He leaned down slowly, to claim another kiss as his fingers nimbly undid the buttons lining the front of the shirt separating them.

"I believe…" The brunette commented, as he moved from lips to the base of his partner's supple throat. "… it had something to do with…" He continued down, trailing kisses down to a pert, and now exposed nipple. "… the last time we made love."

Quatre grinned languidly, only half listening at this point. "Oh ya… lets do that again…"

Trowa continued to lathe the other boy's chest, until the blond added "now" to the end of that statement.

With a grin, he happily proceeded to disrobe his partner, and fumbled blindly for the lube that was usually on the table next to the bed.

-Fast forward to the fun bits-

His movement stilled prematurely …

Oh, it wasn't that he had WANTED to stop, but he seemed to be…

"…stuck."

Quatre squirmed provocatively, not having heard his partner's whispered exclamation over. After a moment of non-movement he voiced his complaint, "Trowa, don't stop…" He wriggled a bit more, wondering why his lover wasn't moving, and… why he seemed slightly… pinched.

Frowning, the blond asked, "Trowa, I thought you used lubrication… it doesn't feel like it now…"

Oblivious to the last comment, Trowa stated again, "I'm stuck."

Suddenly, Quatre was very, very still. Slowly turning to look over his shoulder at his lover. "What?"

----

Heero blinked, for once, in total inability to comprehend the situation.

"Do I really want to know?"

After a moment of thought, he simply shook his head. "No, no I don't."

Quatre, who still looked decidedly unhappy, grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "_Someone's_ sleeping on the couch again...", but it was generally ignored by everyone but Trowa, who took it at HIS cue to hide among the sheets.

Heero continued his assessment of the situation in attempts to create a feasible plan of action. It was obvious that they'd need medical attention soon – if only because certain biological functions could be staved off only so long.

As if on cue, Trowa leaned over to whisper something in the blonde pilot's ear, looking somewhat pained. Quatre's eyes widened to saucer size, and he exclaimed, "Just hold it!"

Duo and Heero looked at each other, with much the same face as Quatre, before declaring in unison, "Lets get them to the hospital NOW." They rushed forward to take either side of the sheets, hauling their complaining companions out of the room whilst still slung in them.

Owari

Epilogue… sort of…:

Several hours later, amongst crisp white hospital sheets, Trowa and Quatre fell asleep in each other's arms… though, the anesthetic probably had more to do with that than affection.

Extras, 'n Explanations:

(1)– if you've ever watched Steel Magnolias you should get this one, if not (I was forced to watch it, myself…), there was a quote in there that went roughly, "…all gay men have track lighting and are named Mark, Rick, or Steve…"

(2) Spelling intended.

(3) I've seen super-type glue (for Jewelry at least) that take 40 seconds to set, and some that takes around a minute or up.

Additional note: I WON my section of the contest I wrote this for – yay me! 


End file.
